


Drunk and Disorderly

by CongratulationsBaby



Series: Australia's Prize Catch [8]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: Set a few days after 'Hope Against Hope' in same A/U where Franky is a contestant of a reality TV show and Bridget is the Production Assistant assigned to her.Vera takes responsibility for her actions when sensational headlines are printed, while Franky hurts and Bridget seeks answers at the bottom of a bottle.
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Series: Australia's Prize Catch [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832278
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Drunk and Disorderly

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Hi all! I'm back with another one-shot for the series (though really am regretting not making it one multi-chapter now... oops?).
> 
> I won't be writing or posting another one until at least midway next week as I finally have a thesis defense date and now I have to prep, prep, prep! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented on, kudos'ed, and generally enjoyed this series so far, I am super grateful to you all! I'm also super grateful to all these absolutely fabulous fridget writers at the moment who are making my day with updates and stories! You all rock!
> 
> Anyway, this one is again a bit more plot-driven like the last one and fridget are still separated but I hope the next one will have some fridget interaction! If not, the final one DEFINITELY will have! (I think there will be maybe 3 more?)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wentworth or any of the characters, you know, the usual 'don't sue me' content.

** Drunk and Disorderly **

****

Bridget wandered the aisles of the local shop, slowly pushing the trolley past all manner of sundries. Her list for the day was thankfully short, but she was a sucker for taking her time and browsing for good offers. Every so often, as she caught sight of certain foods, she let her mind wander to how it might be when Franky finally got out of that damned mansion and off that show.

Would she be strolling around the shop with her? Would Franky also take her time, checking out all the ingredients thoroughly and concocting recipes in her head for dinner that night, or would she be more of a supermarket sweep type, a veritable tornado that left opened boxes and spinning change at the cashier till in her wake? It was these small insignificant thoughts that made Bridget giddy with excitement at seeing the tattooed brunette again.

It had only been four days since she had last seen her, and Bridget knew from the ache in her chest, in her _heart,_ that she was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Franky Doyle. She could still feel her lips ghosting over her neck, her teeth gently nipping at the skin and her tongue laving, soothing. She could still hear Franky’s whispers, her soft encouragements laced with desire as Bridget clutched at her desperately, wanting and _needing_ to let herself go. She could still remember that feeling, as her hips rocked faster against the younger woman, as she pushed her face into Franky’s neck and _pleaded_ with her, crying out as she felt the ripples of pleasure overwhelm her again and again… and again.

Franky was nothing if not a generous lover after all.

_“Clean-up in aisle 7.”_

The static voice startled Bridget from her thoughts and she felt a blush creep up her neck at where her mind had wandered. Shaking her head but with a satisfied smile still in place, she continued on her way to the end of the aisle.

As she moved around toward the delicatessen, she heard several women gossiping, and craned her neck to see what was going on. She didn’t usually engage in idle gossip, but they seemed animated and Bridget wondered briefly if there was an important news story that just broke. She looked over and saw that these women all had newspapers and magazines in their hands and she caught snippets of their conversation as their voices drifted over to her:

“…Can’t believe it… always knew that one was trouble…”

“…She’s so _young_ so what can you expect?...”

“… definitely not as clean as she thinks…”

“… not voting for _her_ again, I’ll tell you that now!”

Voting? _Oh._ Bridget caught on quickly as she remembered that the Bottom Two were being announced tonight on the show. _Wonder who will be kicked off?_

As the women started to disperse, Bridget wandered over to the magazine rack. She already had the last few days of the show on her TV planner and she was going to catch up tonight, but perhaps the magazine would assure her that her Franky, _her_ Franky she thought with a wide smile, was still hanging in there. The magazine’s cover made her pause, a large splashy picture of Kim Chang in the Hot Seat taking up half of it, her eyes red as if she had been crying. Smaller pictures were scattered around the cover, including one of Franky and Kim on their first date, laughing over a candlelit dinner, and one of Franky sitting in the kitchen looking harassed. The final picture, this one bigger, caught her eye and Bridget felt her heart drop.

It was a picture of Franky walking out of the shared bedroom, dragging Allie along behind her. They were holding hands, and both looked at the camera as if caught out, their smiles midway through dropping in shock.

_Nope,_ Bridget told herself, shaking her head to banish the photo, _this isn’t what it looks like. It’s what magazines do, to draw in readers and make them buy. Franky would never…_

That was when the headline caught her attention: “The Doyle/Novak Affair: Chang Left Heartbroken as Scandalous Mansion Affair Revealed”.

Without thinking she grabbed the magazine, and in her head told herself it was to keep up-to-date with what lies were being brought out and what drama was being created to make Franky look bad. Her heart, however, was racing, beating so loudly she thought it was going to break out of her chest and the rhythm was clear: _Fran-ky, Fran-ky._

If she stopped by the wine aisle on her way out, she didn’t register it.

****

_“They completed their challenges and they kept the audience on the edge of their seats! But it wasn’t enough to save them from the Bottom Two this week. The contestants facing elimination this week are…”_

Franky bit her lip as she sat ramrod straight on the sofa, her leg moving furiously to her own beat. She only relaxing slightly when she felt Allie’s hand on her shoulder. They both knew that if either of them went, it would be into the arms of the ones they loved on the outside.

_Might see you sooner than you think, Gidge._

She ignored the camera in front of her, which seemed really interested in her and Allie and had been annoying them all week since they left the room together. She couldn’t fathom why the sudden interest, but if it kept her on the show and in with a chance of the cash prize she wouldn’t complain… too much.

“Ya wanna stick the camera down my pants, Fletch, for a better view?” Franky muttered out the corner of her mouth and the hulking man behind the camera immediately looked apologetic.

“Sorry, Franky, orders from up high.”

Frank sighed and shook her head. It was no use getting mad at him, he was just following The Freak’s every sadistic little whim. The other contestants were looking nervous, with Kaz studying her feet and Will constantly rubbing his face. The only contestant looking unaffected was Kim Chang, who sat there staring blankly at the wall. Franky had no clue and didn’t _want_ to know what was going on in her head.

“… _Franky and Kim!”_

Franky grimaced and let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” she heard Allie whisper next to her as the hand on her shoulder tightened in comradery, but Franky just shook her head. She was equal parts disappointed and relieved, knowing that both the best and worst-case scenario was seeing Bridget on her exit. Sure, she’d have no money to her name and would have to go back to her job as a chef, but she would be able to return home every night to the safe and tender embrace of Bridget.

Kim didn’t react at all to the announcement, instead just standing up abruptly and heading toward the stairs.

“What the fuck is her problem?” Kaz asked aloud, and Will smiled gently at her. This week’s date was between Kaz and Will and they had visited an arcade. They went out wary of each-other but had come back to the mansion with not only a new understanding, but also blushing like teenagers. Franky was happy for them really, but it caused a short sharp pain at the reminder of Bridget’s absence.

_Not long now._

Franky pushed herself off of the sofa and raised a hand to stop Allie from jumping up to follow.

“Just gonna make myself a cuppa,” she explained, and moved toward the kitchen. As she moved through her usual routine of mug, sugar, coffee, kettle, she felt a presence at her back. She turned around slowly and was met by none other than Vera Bennett, who looked… _timid_?

“Doyle,” Vera nodded at her, trying to school her features to stern but failing. Franky snorted. This woman, combined with Kim, was responsible for Bridget’s dismissal. What was she hoping for? A gossip session?

“Vera,” Franky responded, turning away again to concentrate on her drink. She heard Vera clear her throat and stood, back still to her, but waiting for the small woman to talk.

“I… I err…” Vera started, “… I was following the guidelines in my dismissal of Miss Westfall.”

_Good start._

Franky didn’t reply, still taking her time in making the drink, and Vera felt the need to carry on and justify her actions.

“Any incident between an employee and contestant is to be reported to management and is immediate grounds for dismissal of both the employee and contestant. Miss Westfall asked that you stay, which I _agreed_ to I might add even though it is against the rules, and so I had to dismiss her. Inappropriate relations between-“

“ _Inappropriate relations?”_ Franky slammed her spoon down in her mug and turned toward Vera, glaring, “is that what we’re calling it? _‘Inappropriate relations’_?”

Vera appeared flustered at the sudden burst of anger and took a step back, though she didn’t back down entirely.

“Y-yes,” she continued, “your _encounters_ with Miss Westfall-“

“I fucking _loved_ her!”

Vera was stunned into silence at Franky’s outburst. She knew from Kim Chang that the two had been caught together and she’d seen the looks between them herself, but she’d always assumed it was a casual fling away from the prying eyes and ready cameras at the mansion; a way to relieve stress between the two. She’d never once considered that it was something serious, though she should have suspected at Bridget’s insistence on falling on her own sword to protect Franky from dismissal.

“You… loved her?”

Franky felt the tears as they formed and tracked down her cheeks. She roughly wiped her face with her arm and grimaced as she turned back to her drink.

“Still do love her,” she muttered, just loud enough for Vera to catch it, “and she loves me… and you fucking _ruined_ her for it. Hopefully I’ll be thrown out of this fucking place this week and I can see her again.”

“I…” Vera collected herself and knew that the sick feeling in her stomach was about to get so much worse before it got better, “I’m _sorry._ I didn’t know…”

Franky snorted and shook her head but didn’t deign to respond. Vera shifted nervously, still trying to absorb the information, but also steeling herself for what she was about to do.

“I didn’t come here to justify my actions-“

“-yet you tried to anyway-“

“-I came here,” Vera spoke over Franky’s interruption, “because I need to tell you something.”

Franky shrugged, looking uninterested.

“You might have noticed the cameras following you a lot more closely these past few days?”

A nod of acknowledgement.

“That’s because Ferguson’s latest attempt at creating drama involves you.”

“So?” Franky asked, “she needs shit for ratings, she’d done it before with me and Kim. What’s so special about this one?”

“Because this one,” Vera look a deep breath, “this one has caused quite a storm.”

****

****

Bridget had polished off the bottle of wine and was shakily pouring the last dregs into her wine glass when she heard the knock at the door. She ignored it, smiling to herself as she drank the last drops of the sweet nectar, and instead pulled one of the many magazines littering her coffee table closer.

“Oh t-this ones a good one,” she hiccoughed and let out a bark of laughter as she turned to the centre page of the magazine, pictures of Franky all over them, “mmmm seven women in this one, yep.”

She knew, she _knew_ that Franky had a past. With a face and charm like that, who wouldn’t? She also figured Franky for a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, her flirtations and confidence suggested nothing less. So why did this bother her so much? Fuck, _she_ had a past. She had one-night stands… okay, not as many apparently as Franky, but why was she so bothered by these magazines? By these photos of Franky with other girls or photos with Allie? Of their accounts of sordid encounters with the tattooed brunette?

_Because they’re young and they’re beautiful,_ a small, sober, and vindictive part of her mind told her.

“Nuh,” she shook her head, grimacing as the alcohol made her want to throw up, “not that.”

Bridget was confident enough in her own appearances, though she started to wonder…

_Maybe because you’re now not sure now that she really loves you?_

All of the articles had women coming forward, claiming Franky had professed her love and commitment before leaving them in the dust as she found a new conquest. She wanted to believe they were lies, that these women wanted their minute in the spotlight, but a part of her just _wasn’t sure._

So she drank.

One bottle had turned to two, and here Bridget was, sitting on the floor of her living room surrounded by magazines and newspapers, all with Franky’s face plastered over the entertainment sections.

_Knock knock knock._

There it was again, and Bridget huffed in annoyance at the persistent uninvited knocking at her door. She slowly pulled herself up, wobbling as she stood up fully.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she squinted as if she could concentrate better that way, “I’m coming!”

She stumbled toward the door and leant herself against it as she tugged at the deadbolt. With more force than necessary and in an attempt to look completely sober, she wrenched the door open and was met with the startled face of Vera.

“Oh,” Bridget let out a snort of laughter, “It’s Veraaa.”

“B-Bridget, are you-” Vera reached out and gripped at Bridget’s arms, “are you _drunk_?”

“Nuh, plenty more wine, c’mon in!” Bridget waved Vera through into the hallway and slammed the door shut once more.

“I’ll, ummm, I’ll get a fresh bottle,” with that, Bridget stumbled away and moved toward her kitchen. Vera followed her reluctantly and headed toward the sofas where she was met with two empty bottles, a glass tipped over on its side, and several magazines all open at the entertainment pages.

Vera frowned as she read the headlines for each one:

“Doyle and Novak Heat Things Up In the Mansion with Girlfriend Chang Just Next Door.”

“Chef In Own Hot Water: Doyle Caught Cheating… And It’s Not The First Time!”

“’She Told Me She Loved Me’: Women Heartbroken By Steamy Doyle”

She grimaced, understanding why Bridget was in such a state after talking to Franky in the mansion kitchen. If Bridget had really fallen in love with Franky…

“Here…” Bridget quietly appeared behind her, thrusting out a full glass of white wine, “only got chardonnay left, sorry.”

“Uh, Bridget,” Vera tried to catch the blonde’s eyes and Bridget met her gaze levelly, though Vera could see them glazed over, “are you… okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I see that you’ve read the latest,” Vera pointed at all the magazines and Bridget flinched.

Bridget tried to keep silent, but her heart kept on at her: _Fran-ky. Fran-ky._

“How is she, Vera?” She asked finally, hearing the damned emotion in her voice and bringing her hand up to gently wipe the stray tears. She scoffed at herself, she sounded so weak.

_But wasn’t love strength?_

“She’s okay,” Vera nodded, “she’s up for elimination against Kim Chang this week and, as you can see, it’s not looking good for her on the audience vote.”

Bridget didn’t respond and instead chose to take a large swig of her wine.

“Bridget, I’m here because I spoke to Franky earlier… out of the way of the cameras.”

“Aanndd why would you do that?” Bridget laughed, “isn’t that the idea of it? To get _every little detail_ on camera?”

She knew she was being venomous, but at this moment she really didn’t care.

“To create drama?” she prompted when Vera just stood, watching, “to ruin lives? C’mon, Vera, what could have possibly been said that no camera was _allowed_ to hear?”

“She said that she loves you.”

Bridget felt her heart leap, even when dulled by alcohol.

“Oh,” she uttered. Bridget fell back on the sofa gracelessly, and chuckled to herself once more, “oh.”

“Look,” Vera sat down stiffly next to her, “all of these rumours that the magazine have picked up, they’re not true. You know Joan Ferguson. Allie and Franky were in their room for three days, upset over the elimination of Bea Smith and… well, losing you.”

Bridget didn’t say anything, her gaze fixed on the wall.

“Ferguson asked us to create the romance between Franky and Allie. We caught them coming out of the room _finally_ and Miles snapped it. Ferguson… no,” Vera sighed and finally admitted, “ _I_ got Chang on board, we gave her the script for the Hot Seat interview and we ran it through to the press.”

Still nothing, so Vera continued:

“Ferguson then started making calls, dredged up Franky’s exes. Of course she promised them their share of the limelight and a cash incentive… but this…”

Vera waved her hand at all of the magazines.

“ _This_ was all on us, not Franky. She loves you Bridget and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realise what Ferguson was like. I-I think I was so desperate to impress her, to _be_ the best… that I shut off that part of myself that _cared_ about these people, and I really screwed up.”

Vera turned to Bridget fully and was met with teary blue eyes coming back into focus.

“I’m sorry, Bridget.”

For a while, nothing happened. Vera watched uncertainly as Bridget nodded slowly to herself, absorbing the information. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stood up.

“I need water,” was all Bridget said as she stumbled back toward the kitchen.

Vera sighed and sank back into the sofa. She’d royally fucked this up and could only hope that the Production Assistant would forgive her. After all, they needed to work together to keep Franky in the show.

After a few moments, Bridget returned with a glass of water with ice, sipping on it as she came up to the sofas.

“Can you…” Bridget looked at the magazines and sighed, “can you put them in the bin for me please? I can’t look at them anymore.”

“Of course,” Vera stood up and quickly pulled all of the magazines and newspapers into a pile before moving over to the kitchen and throwing them in the pedal bin.

When she returned, Bridget was swaying on the spot as she continued to drink her water.

“We need to help Franky,” was all she said and Vera nodded, relieved that they were on the same page.

“I agree, and actually I have a plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, writing drunk Bridget was actually really difficult (because poor Bridget AND because I couldn't quite figure out how she'd talk while drunk? I suspect she'd be a giggler and somewhat emotional, but her little stumbly walk and talking to Liz in 5x08 was all I had to go on, so...
> 
> As before, constructive criticism etc. is more than welcome, but most importantly I hope you have enjoyed it!
> 
> Again, any suggestions or prompts or anything you'd like to read, feel free to throw it at me :) - once this has finished it's bigger plot, I'll come back to it and flesh out other aspects I think, some little one-shots. 
> 
> \- CB


End file.
